


Nimbostratus

by 37h4n0l



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Gay Sex, M/M, Top!Komaeda, bottom!Hinata, dubcon, hope and despair intended in a sexual sense, i dont know how to explain this, well dubcon-ish, what the fuck have I written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 16:20:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10745349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/37h4n0l/pseuds/37h4n0l
Summary: Just like the wind could bring rain clouds, a strong sense of curiosity could bring-Unexpected consequences.





	Nimbostratus

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so exhausted. I have no idea what I just wrote. All I wanted is for my boy Komaeda to top but obviously I had to bring the situation about in the most intricate way and then this fic started living a life of its own and it went off on a tangent. Then it turned into getting off on hope somehow. 
> 
> Nimbostratus are rain clouds, by the way.

Islands, especially smaller ones, lack the kind of continental barrier that would stop the wind efficiently. Along with the air currents coming from the ocean, this could often result in amplified effects - a push of air strong enough to damage the local flora or susceptible man-made objects left in the open. A truly windy day is rarely a good one on islands, and no matter the amount of sunlight, the destruction can still be great. Usually, however, it’s not the wind itself that should be worrying, but rather what it foreshadows by being instrumental in bringing masses of clouds closer - storms. 

 

Hinata doesn’t really know where all this information comes from. The words glide in the back of his mind like the ending credits of a movie, but the origin is unknown. Half of the threads of thought lead to  _ complete blackout _ , probably the supposedly erased school memories. The other half is early childhood and observing the sky in a field, then someone calling out his name,  _ quick, Hajime, the storm is coming _ , and his eyes mesmerized for just one more second by the quick movements of the clouds above his head. These memories are very distant though, maybe it’s the gap making them seem like an entirely different part of Hinata’s life. It’s almost like watching  _ another person _ from outside, except the one in those images is most certainly him. It’s all so confusing and sudden, having to kill each other, seven people dying before his very eyes without him being able to do anything - people his age, people who could’ve been  _ him _ . It’s so fucked up. 

 

Hinata opens his eyes, the hotel lobby spinning around him so hard he has to hold onto the fabric covering the couch. He returns to reality - as surreal as that reality may be - and he quickly reassesses his position. It’s one of their free days, barely the second one after the last murder, early afternoon. He didn’t feel like being around the others, so he came here on his own with the excuse of not feeling very well, right. Then his musings wandered again and now he has to remind himself for the billionth time that  _ thinking _ , especially on a large scale, made you go fucking insane on this ‘school trip’ (as Monokuma would call it). It’s better to shut your cognitive functions off to the best of your ability, albeit Hinata knows, he’s  _ certain _ that he’ll keep investigating what’s behind their being here even if the truth brings him the dreaded  _ despair _ he’s heard so much about. It’s like digging for gold and getting your nails bloody; then finding a corpse, probably. It crosses his mind that, with all his paranoia and lack of information about himself, he might have a masochistic tendency to seek out every dreadful clue just in order to make himself suffer, that maybe he’s just as attracted to  _ despair _ as a certain someone is to  _ hope _ \- Hinata lets his face fall into his hands, wiping off the sweat and combing through spiky locks. He wishes he could brainwash himself to put an end to these thought processes.

 

Everyone (well,  _ almost _ everyone) is in the restaurant right now, talking strategy and whatnot. He should probably be there with them and at least try to contribute, but the cynic in him reminds him that nothing so far has worked and whoever was driven to murder has done it anyway despite any effort to prevent it. Having regained a state of relative calmness, Hinata leans back in the couch.  _ Hope _ , he should have more  _ hope _ . Maybe he should repeat the word over and over again to the point of obsession, like that crazy son of a bitch Komaeda does. Maybe not giving a damn about people dying and going on with life merrily feels better, maybe that guy is the happiest among them after all. Hinata is at the limit of abandoning morality and integrity to feel less tormented. 

 

Speaking of which, the prospect of becoming like Komaeda has an impression of dread to it stronger than what any amount of  _ despair _ could induce. Hinata would love to be able to say he’s getting used to it, that he can overlook that one derailing element in  _ every single class trial _ who switches sides so haphazardly. It’s not good for your psyche to see someone change their behaviour like that. It fucks with your brain. Maybe Hinata wanted to forget after the first instance - when they found out that Komaeda was, well, essentially a murderer - and dismiss those moments as some tension-induced delirium. But after it happened two, three, four times or more, the maniacal grin is now etched into his mind irreversibly. Considered from outside, the teenager is an interesting phenomenon. Hinata still wonders what exactly flicks his switch; most of his rambles about  _ hope _ are fairly peaceful and casual, completely different than the crazy ones despite conveying the same message. Would Komaeda snap at the sight of too much  _ despair _ perhaps? Is it the killings? The reality of a dead body? The atmosphere of the trials?

 

As soon as Hinata steps outside the hotel, a harsh current catches his clothes, almost tearing a button off his shirt. He remembers that what reminded him of the wind-related remembrances in the first place was, in fact, the weather outside. The loneliness of these areas is frightening, almost; a beach resort with barely anyone, and yet it’s so well-maintained. It’s unnatural. Uncanny. Even more worrying is the fact that there’s only  _ one person _ certainly not in the hotel at the moment and Hinata could meet him anytime by just walking around. He does, nevertheless - he closes the heavy wooden gate behind himself and makes his leisurely way down the dusty road, kicking a stone along. He might seem relaxed from the outside, but he’s no more so than the rapidly moving air around him, preannouncing a future disaster. Hinata tries to stifle down the negative thinking, focus on the palm trees and the gentle sound of the ocean waves. 

 

He passes by the market and the airport, goes inside, even, still not finding a single soul. Those places hold no interest to any of the people on the island anymore; most of the resources are fairly useless - except for food and weapons - and even acquiring them for free doesn’t feel thrilling anymore. The airport is even more of a mere decoration. Maybe a vision to soothe everyone who’s been trapped here, something that gives the illusion of there being a way out. Hinata finds his eyes darting around every space he visits on his lonely little stroll. He wonders if he’s going to die in one of these areas, maybe even now, a swift stab in the back and the last words he hears being some delirious discourse on  _ hope _ . Who knows, after all; Komaeda is unpredictable. It wouldn’t be far-fetched to consider Hinata his next target. He shivers at the thought of Komaeda dropping his facade of benevolence, holding him at knifepoint and staring him down with those crazy eyes. Hinata can almost feel the wall - or ground - against his back, the other teenager sighing heavily and letting out a breathless laughter, the body warmth that seems to absurdly suggest it comes from a human being and not a goddamn crazy monster. Because he  _ does _ understand everyone else’s perspective on Nagito a little bit; he tries not to let the flattery get to his head. Everything considered, he’s pretty sure Komaeda is a danger and a bother and he has to be dealt with, although Hinata wouldn’t ever encourage murder by any means.

 

The curiosity persists, though. If anything, he’s intrigued as to what buttons he would need to push to make the other’s true identity arise. There could be a hundred know-your-enemy excuses, but Hinata has given up on denying that he  _ genuinely wants to know _ . He wishes he had a way to observe Komaeda and what he does when he’s alone, if he’s planning another murder or has even more to hide. That’s how he realizes he’s been  _ looking for him _ for the past minutes, and that really, the only reason why he’s outside now is the prospect of finding him. Despite the awareness that he’s putting his own life in danger there’s something stronger drawing him in. 

 

And he  _ does _ find Komaeda, eventually, first spotting him as a small figure on a rock with the ocean right beneath him, hunched over in an uncomfortable-looking sitting position. The water’s splashes are loud enough for him not to notice the presence approaching, so Hinata has all the time in the world to observe him thoroughly as he climbs up the aggregation of boulders. Komaeda Nagito’s looks can be described as ‘odd with a hint of unsettling’ even in a state of calmness. His skin is strangely light, it doesn’t tan or get burnt even after spending all this time under the sun. Maybe there’s even something aesthetically pleasing about the messy locks of his hair and his spindly hands with those long, bony fingers, but his eyes are way too pale and the circles under them way too dark in comparison. He looks like he’s not sleeping enough, which, if anything, makes him more suspicious in Hinata’s view rather than prompting him to sympathize due to his own insomnia. And now he’s staring at the distance in deep thought and almost looks harmless. Hinata has to remind himself of  _ that smile _ every other second to not give in to the deceiving image. 

 

“What are you doing here? Everyone is talking things over at the hotel.”

 

Yes, it’s a bad attempt, but Komaeda turns around nonetheless. His lips curl up slightly.

 

“Hajime!” He sounds cheery and it almost makes Hinata’s head hurt. “Does anyone there really need me right now? I doubt I could add anything constructive to the discussion.”

 

“You know,” the other massages the bridge of his nose, “maybe they would trust you more if you actually interacted with them sometimes.”

 

“But have they really told you to come get me?” Komaeda disregards the earlier phrase as his tone grows a tad darker and he turns towards the ocean again. 

 

“Well-” 

 

The teenager stands up suddenly, not waiting for the reply to be continued, a look of childish wonder and surprise on his face. Hinata finds himself staring into wide-open grey orbs with his hands clasped into those large, awkward paws. 

 

“Hajime… You came on your own?”

 

“I was passing by” Hinata attempts to pull away to dodge the invasion of his personal sphere. 

 

“Still, you took the effort to even consider the existence of a lowly, talentless being like me! You truly are a kind person, Hajime!”

 

_ No,  _ Hinata tries to convey with an angry stare,  _ I’m not falling for this again. You can keep saying my name like that, I’m seeing right through you _ . He wonders why Komaeda even bothers to put up an act at this point; maybe this is his idea of mockery, pretending not to be one of the most useful forces in any investigation or to have perhaps the best brain among them. It’s convincing, though, to the point of concern. Maybe he really is crazy. 

 

“Well, I don’t feel like going, to tell you the truth. But I will,  _ if you want me to _ ” Komaeda adds, finally letting go of the other who feels his irritation rise every time he acts like his  _ goddamn dog _ . 

 

“Look-”  _ It really is for the best if we both walk back to the hotel. _ “There’s no need. Actually, I won’t go either.” Wait, did he really just say that? Hinata pauses briefly in confusion at his own words. He’s gradually noticing a loss of self-control in himself at this point. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

 

Komaeda’s expression lights up again, utterly oblivious to the other’s lack of plans. 

 

“To  _ me _ ? On your own accord?”

 

Hinata occupies his  _ classmate _ ’s earlier position on the protruding rock, trying to squeeze out a precise topic from his brain; meanwhile Nagito sits on the stony ground and even pretends like it’s comfortable, his eyes fixated on the teenager. 

 

“This whole  _ hope-thing _ ,” he begins, “I’m not sure I get it.”

 

“There’s nothing very complicated about it” Komaeda flashes a smile. “After all, a person like me can understand it. It surely won’t be difficult for someone as talented as you, Hajime.”

 

“Oh no, I’m pretty sure I require your explanations. I guess you’ll have to accept being better than me in something.” 

 

A small blush spreads across Komaeda’s cheeks. He looks normal,  _ frighteningly _ normal - even somewhat endearing, like an overgrown child or pet. 

 

“Ask away.”

 

“I wanted to know something about the murders” Hinata begins. “You keep positing them as something good because you need even more  _ hope _ to overcome such great  _ despair _ or something like that, right?” He tries to copy the other’s usual wording and earns an appeased expression and a few nods for it.

 

“So even  _ despair _ is just a way to  _ hope _ ?”

 

“Ah, see? You do get it, Hajime! I’m so happy that someone understands, I feel like I could die!” Komaeda seems excited, almost. “ _ Despair _ is just an obstacle  _ hope _ has to overcome, and if it’s strong enough to withstand gruesome things like death, that means it can be a beacon of light to lead us all towards even more  _ hope _ .”

 

“So-” Hinata takes a deep breath and waits a few seconds. “What’s the difference between wishing for  _ hope _ and wishing for  _ despair _ ?”

 

The other seems lost, his elation gone as fast as it came. He looks on blankly before answering. 

 

“How do I put this…” He scratches his head as he looks away, troubled. “There’s a big difference between  _ hope _ and  _ despair _ , but it can’t be described in words. I suppose you’d need to experience it to truly understand.”

 

Hinata stands up, his later words falling from his lips uncontrollably, arms covered in goosebumps due to either the strengthening wind or something else. 

 

“Then show me.”

 

Komaeda gets up from the ground as well, movements suddenly more smooth and measured. They’re in front of each other now, a strange aura of seriousness spreading between them. The  _ Ultimate Lucky Student _ speaks first, expression barely visible from the white strands of hair blown into his face by the currents. His voice is deeper; Hinata gulps at the prospect of having succeeded already. Maybe he’s losing it now.

 

“You came here to get killed by me?”

 

“I’m afraid you wouldn’t get away with that,” the other smirks, “everyone else has an alibi.”

 

“Honestly, I don’t really care about ‘getting away with it’.” Komaeda responds, making his classmate’s heartbeat fasten exponentially. 

 

It takes less than a second. 

 

The first thing Hinata experiences is panic, as well as concern for his spinal column as it’s just been violently slammed against the rocks under him. His lungs are hit, too, from the back, and he coughs a few times, eyes shut and arms flexed defensively in front of himself. Then he realizes he should probably be getting ready for  _ death _ and that maybe it would be better to take a last look at the crazy world around him; the irregular patterns of stone, the sea, the clouds in the sky quickly approaching due to the windy weather. Or maybe he should face his killer, etch his expression into whatever afterlife memory he might have. That indecipherable anger in Komaeda’s eyes, or anything someone might find appealing in him, just to go out with at least an aesthetically pleasing image. 

 

The suspense becomes unbearable. Hinata even starts to wonder what’s taking the other so long, because the hands around his neck or the knife thrust into his stomach or whatever means of killing just  _ doesn’t come _ and it takes a few more seconds and a softened expression from Komaeda to realize it never will. Then Nagito erupts in a chuckle, and while it’s loud and frantic, it’s still not  _ the one _ , which makes Hinata immensely relieved but also a little disappointed. 

 

“Did you seriously think I was going to kill you? Hhahhahahahahha” he bursts out, body contorting from exhilaration.

 

Hinata only notices now that Komaeda has been pinning his hands to the ground on both sides and kneeling above him. He must have practically jumped him during those few moments, making the fall more impactful with his body weight. He sure doesn’t look heavy but the pain was there. 

 

“How would I know,” he finally comments on the earlier question in a quiet voice, “you’ve tried to kill before, haven’t you?”

 

“Does that scare you, Hajime?” Komaeda grins, and there’s a flash of something sinister in it.

 

“Anyone would be shocked to be tossed on the ground like that, it’s a miracle I didn’t break a bone.” Hinata still sounds calm, his composure quickly regained. He tries to wiggle his way out of the hold, bends one of his legs upwards; Komaeda’s knees on both sides of his torso press into his ribs at that, a subtle sign that he’d better keep still. 

 

“I mean the murder attempt against Togami, does it scare you? Were you  _ feeling it _ ?”

 

“Feeling  _ what _ ?”

 

“ _ Despair _ . Complete hopelessness - your miserable, unjust and sudden death approaching you.”

 

Hinata blinks a few times. It’s odd to hear Komaeda speak this way; as if a part of him relishes in just how horrid this so-called  _ despair _ is. It almost sounds like an act of revenge, some fucked up didactic method to make people value something by having them experience the horror of the alternative. It’s absolutely insane and it’s not making him feel  _ hope _ in the slightest. 

 

“It was good to hear I wasn’t serious, wasn’t it?” Komaeda continues, leaning down a little and making the lack of distance between the two of them mildly awkward. There’s no correct answer to this; it  _ did _ feel better, after all. 

 

“Aren’t you just overflowing with  _ hope _ now that you realized you get to keep your life, Hajime?” He looks up at the sky in a frenzied awe. 

 

“You’re not making any sense” Hinata replies bitterly, ruining his enthusiasm instantly. The Ultimate Lucky Student looks back at him, reflects on something before speaking. 

 

“Do you need more examples then?”

 

“I’m pretty sure I’m more confused now than before so I think I’ll decli-” His face turns upwards in a sudden twitch when he takes note of how, in the meanwhile, Komaeda has taken both his wrists in one hand and is keeping them in place above his head. “What?”

 

“Frustrating, really,...” It’s ridiculous, but he sounds  _ sad _ . “...Hajime. That you still don’t know what I’m talking about. I’m starting to think you’re doing it on purpose.”

 

With that, before the teen can say anything else, Komaeda slips a hand under his shirt in a brief, inadvertent movement. Hinata’s eyes shoot open, heart pounding and muscles tensing up from confusion and embarrassment. 

 

“Nagito, what  _ the fuck _ are you doing?”

 

He freezes suddenly, keeping his palm lightly placed on the other’s sternum, a surprised,  _ innocent _ look on his face. “Isn’t it obvious? Only what  _ you told me to do _ . Show you  _ despair _ .”

 

“I don’t remember telling you to-  harass me. This isn’t funny.”   
  


“Surely,” he laughs shortly in response, “being touched by a lowly piece of trash like myself must be quite gruesome. Which is exactly why I’m doing it.”

 

Hinata flinches when Komaeda continues to run his fingers along his upper body after the short intermission. His touch is that of a curious child at first and an unabashed pervert a moment later, when he accidentally roams over a nipple, then fixates on it, pressing and pinching it as he sees the anger on Hinata’s face. This has to be a sick joke.

 

“Cut this crap out,  _ right now _ .” 

 

His inner conflict is tearing his brain apart. Yes, he wants to see progress in the situation, he wants Komaeda to strip himself of all the acts he puts up, but this is definitely the wrong direction. He wishes he had stayed at the hotel or his cottage today, he wishes he didn’t have this  _ dumbass goddamn idea _ , but most of all he wishes he could find the strength in his muscles and his basic pride and decency to push this  _ lunatic _ off of himself. And yet he doesn’t, and he  _ knows it _ , Hinata knows all too well. Because this is something new and intriguing, and  _ to Hell  _ with the exaggerated curiosity that governs him at a time like this. 

 

“Huh, Hajime. I let go of your hands, you know.”

 

Hinata stares through half-lids. He ascertains the truth of the statement, but his brain is in a momentary block.

 

“Oh, I get it!” Komaeda perks up again. “It was part of the  _ game _ , wasn’t it? You got me there.”

 

“Game? Wha-”

 

Hinata feels the other shift above him, moving from the straddle to a much more…  _ concerning _ position between his legs. There’s nothing ambiguous about what’s happening anymore and he swallows, heavily, feeling like he could choke on his own saliva. It’s all terrifying and uncomfortable, Hinata’s limbs are twisted inconveniently and the rocks are still pressing against his back. A sudden blow of wind makes his stomach - exposed by the earlier act - shiver. The helplessness is just  _ infuriating _ . Komaeda leans close to him again and chases away all doubt by kissing him, unhesitant and straightforward, pressing his tongue into the other’s mouth despite the vehement resistance he’s faced with. 

 

He pulls away after  _ way too many _ seconds, leaving both of them panting hard, but in that precise instance, Hinata’s attention fails to direct itself towards the physical circumstances. He almost forgets to breathe completely, in fact, as opposed to the ragged gasps of the other teen. His gaze is stuck on Komaeda’s eyes, hypnothized - because there it is, that aura of darkness and insanity, it’s darkening the greyness of them and turning them into a vortex of  _ hope _ and  _ despair _ while Hinata truly feels like he could die at any moment this time. He’s sucked in by the power of this hidden, remote part of Komaeda. It’s the same one that could’ve killed a human being, the same one that will follow its own rules, unscrupulous towards any kind of moral code, the same one that  _ stands above _ them all,  _ controls _ them all. He has no idea what’s going on anymore, his brain is overwhelmed during those brief seconds.

 

“Must’ve felt disgusting, what I just did.” Komaeda’s voice comes out rough from the heavy breathing. “I can hardly think of anything more  _ despair-inducing _ . Are you revolted, Hajime?”

 

_ Yes _ , Hinata wants to answer,  _ and also no, I hardly have a clue _ . Instead he keeps quiet; he must look awfully pale right now, he can even feel his hands go cold and limp. All he can do is quietly stare at the teenager above him, just stare and stare and stare… Komaeda is looking at him as well, his eyes still pools of madness. The wind is making the fuzzy strands of his hair bounce, fly and tangle while his lips curl up faintly - he looks so  _ attractive _ like this, so uncharacteristically sure of himself. 

 

“Oh.” Komaeda lets out a small sound of feigned surprise, and for a moment Hinata has to wonder what’s going on. “ _ Ooooh. _ ” He realizes soon enough, when he feels a knee press against his crotch and has to hold back a gasp.

 

He doesn’t recall any other time when he was so in awe he didn’t even notice popping a boner. 

 

“Don’t worry, Hajime,” the other leans down to whisper the rest into his ear, grinding a thigh against his erection,  _ hard _ , “it’s quite a natural reaction to fear and aversion, I won’t mock you for it.” He licks along the shell of Hinata’s ear with a new, sloppy fondness, making him grind his teeth. “Still, I’m unsure whether I’m putting up enough of a challenge for the  _ hope _ that resides within you. I mean, I made you think I would  _ kill you _ just a moment ago but you brushed it off.”

 

“Nagito,  _ sto- _ ...” 

 

The latest request only serves to egg him on, Hinata notices. He should’ve known that he’d take any resistance as encouragement, but in actuality, maybe he  _ did  _ know. He can’t tell at this point, his mind is in a haze of intrigue and unexpected lust. Really, there’s no reason on Earth why anything about  _ Nagito fucking Komaeda  _ should make him aroused; he’s never even been into men and his current choice of partner is a rather  _ unconventional _ one, even within the category itself. And yet, he lets the other unbutton his shirt and undo his tie, the only opposition being a half-hearted attempt at putting up a fight; more fitting for sexual roleplaying than a serious confrontation. There’s something about Komaeda that keeps him on edge, he’s lacking that subtle, barely perceptible vibe of boredom that any other person induces in Hinata. 

 

“I have a confession to make, Hajime.” The way he says his name is a distorted version of the heartfelt tone he normally uses. Komaeda straightens up again, outright pressing down on the other’s crotch with one palm. “You know, for someone like me to do  _ this _ to you…” He pushes harder and Hinata’s entire body winces as he bites into his own lip, still trying his hardest to be silent. “It truly feels like a once-in-a-lifetime chance. But I’m a bit nervous and  _ excited _ .” 

 

Hinata shuts his eyes and turns away when he senses his belt being unbuckled and the cold air hitting his painfully hard cock a moment later. He tries to twist his body, feeling desperate without any means to hide his nakedness. Nagito, caring very little about his reactions, continues his little discourse casually. 

 

“Because I’m sure that if I go far enough, you will finally understand what _hope_ and _despair_ mean, Hajime. You’re so _smart_ and _cool_ and _amazing_ ,” his face is slightly tinged with pink, but this time it’s a feverish blush of utter perversion, “maybe that’s why I need to do all of this to make you _break_ and _crumble_ _in despair_. That’s why I need to violate and humiliate you… Hajime…” 

 

Then he starts touching Hinata, wrapping angular, ruthless fingers around him, gaze downcast as he immobilizes other’s hip with the remaining hand. 

 

“I really am disgusting, am I not?” Komaeda’s smile makes an attempt at being sweet but the other can barely see it through the mist of irrepressible new sensations and how bizarre, dangerous, but ultimately  _ good _ it feels to be jerked off by him like this.

 

“A despicable, vile worm.” The Ultimate Lucky Student continues, enthusiastically lost in his stream of self-deprecation. “I’m so ashamed of myself!” 

 

Then he erupts in  _ that laughter _ and it echoes violently from the deserted surroundings. The wind blows harder than before, it tears at the nearby trees’ fronds mercilessly, and Hinata’s head is spinning, eyes darting from the sky completely covered in clouds, to the trees, to Komaeda’s hand on his cock, then to the trees again. Then, right before he could feel the familiar tingle of getting close to his climax, the other lets go and decides to yank down his trousers all the way, making him shiver in the cold air currents. Nothing about this is agreeable or ideal - it’s uncomfortable  _ as fuck _ , as Hinata would put it to himself, and by his current outlook on things, it’s going to get  _ much worse _ . Still, his inquisitiveness is an itch he can’t scratch, and he tells himself he can endure this. So much death has went down before his eyes; he certainly won’t be shocked at whatever was going to happen to the hard-on Komaeda - as he now notices - has. 

 

It’s easy to gain resolve about the concept. The physical reality… Not so much. Hinata shivers with repugnance when the other briefly slickens two fingers with his own saliva without employing much effort and approaches his entrance with them. It was inevitable but that doesn’t take away from the instinctive refusal on part of his body - his ass cheeks clench involuntarily and he thrashes his head to a side, forgetting about the rocks beside him. 

 

“You can’t do this, you’re insane” he protests, unsure about how much he means it. A part of him does, that much he’s sure of. He’d rather be lying in his bed or doing  _ anything else _ than this. 

 

“It’s not that complicated a process,” Komaeda grins sardonically above him, his fingertips coming into contact with the skin of Hinata’s asshole ‘accidentally’, driving him into more frustration, “even someone like me can do it. You’ll see.”

 

Then he plunges in and what comes off from his movements is inexperience - one that translates into him not bothering to be cautious or gentle. He tries out various angles and motions with his fingers, digging deep into Hinata and scraping against his walls in an outright harsh way, leaving him mute and breathless from shock. He can sense that Komaeda has no idea what he’s doing (not a reassuring fact in the slightest), but also that he’s catching on quickly as the jolt of his body doesn’t go unnoticed in  _ that precise moment _ and the other proceeds to prod the spot again and again. Something about erogene zones and the prostate; Hinata doesn’t feel like indulging in memories of anatomy classes for too long. Suddenly, Komaeda’s digits leave him and he has to acknowledge the fact that calling this ‘preparation’ wouldn’t be quite accurate because he doesn’t feel  _ prepared _ at all so  _ warning _ might be a better word, and fuck, how did it come to this, to a madman screwing him on some remote fucking island in the middle of the sea? He’s tired. He’s so tired.

 

It comes inadvertently; Hinata is flipped around, face uncomfortably pressed into the ground and ass up in the air. He’d protest against being manhandled like this for the second time but he knows there’s no use. He just has to think of an excuse to tell the others about how his forehead bruised so badly. It might be bleeding, but, needless to say, he’s not in a position to confirm. Or to worry about it. Komaeda unzips his pants with a calm movement, almost stoic, although his expression is not clearly visible from down there. Then everything goes white and it’s as if a single, enormous cramp ruptures through Hinata. His mind is dull. It takes him a few moments to register the overwhelming sensation he feels as ‘pain’ and scream out agonizingly. 

 

“That’s quite,...  uh,- Komaeda pants, his hands gripping the other’s hips forcefully, then moving downwards to his nape, -a reaction, Hajime!”

 

He starts moving and Hinata doesn’t have the energy to respond as the friction makes him grit his teeth to the point of almost cracking them. It hurts. It hurts so much he’s positive he’s going to cry soon if this continues. The only resolve that comes to mind as Komaeda rocks in and out repeatedly, already picking up considerable speed, is in the form of hatred; burning, immense hatred. Inexperience is nothing but an excuse. Again, Hinata  _ knows _ . It’s the same as the trials, the investigations and everything else, every other situation where he used his own supposed incompetence to just  _ do as he pleased _ . Now it feels like Komaeda is outright mocking him, as much as that would be an absurdly euphemistic way to describe someone violently pounding another person’s ass while holding them down by the neck with both hands. His grasp tightens, and as Hinata feels his respiratory system getting impeded, his survival instinct manages to force a faint sound out of him.

 

“You-... mother-… fucker…”

 

“Huh? Are you talking to me, Hajime?” Komaeda says among a series of thrusts without stopping for a second. He’s audibly holding back a chuckle. “That’s such an honor.”

 

“You are going to-” Hinata coughs, failing to concentrate on breathing as he tries to cope with the pain of the cock entering him again and again. “...re going to kill me,... fucking… stop…”

 

The words bubble out as miserable wails and suddenly a thought crosses his mind, a single thought about how all of this must look from the outside. Suddenly, he feels a need to hide his face as if someone could see him - anyone could walk here, after all, and they’d be greeted by the image of Hinata in such a pathetic state, wrecked and stripped of any pride he had, fucked into the ground like some kind of girl. By Komaeda, of all people, a crazy person his classmates would be too disgusted to touch; and yet he’s balls deep in Hinata now, the sound of the wind being the only thing to muffle the mixture of psychotic snickering and pained cries. There’s something else, though, and perhaps it makes him a thousandfold more ashamed than being in this situation in the first place. When seen from afar, this could perhaps be passed off as rape, if only it wasn’t for how  _ painfully hard _ Hinata is. The shudders of his muscles and his gasps - something between panicky and turned on - would be proof enough, but his dick is leaking precome as well and it’s all so  _ distasteful _ and  _ humiliating _ that it could compare to the burning ache he’s feeling for the lack of proper preparations and lubricant. 

 

And then Komaeda starts going harder and deeper, seemingly too occupied with trying to satisfy himself to take the other’s needs into consideration, a few half-stifled grunts escaping his lips from above with every movement. Hinata is flooded with searing pain, it’s like being set on fire or having every bone of his skeleton snap at the same time. He takes a mental note to never,  _ ever _ overestimate his physical endurance again, or the power such a state of extreme discomfort can have over a person. He attempts to scream or at least push any kind of phrase out of himself but it’s hard, it’s so sorely hard when all his brain functions are in such a state of crisis that he’s even beyond fight-or-flight reactions. He has to communicate something,  _ anything _ to make this stop, there’s nothing else on his mind, nothing more he’s able to think of.

 

“JUST STOP, IT FUCKING-... HURTS, YOU HEAR ME?” Hinata bursts out in a strangled high pitch he has no control over (due to the chokehold on his neck, probably). “I BEG OF YOU. IT’S ENOUGH. CUT IT-… CUT IT OUT!”

 

It’s almost surreal. It’s like a dream. Everything freezes.

 

Komaeda stays there like a statue after pulling out completely. His face is still obscured by madness, but he’s still, his thrusts have ceased, his hands came loose. He’s kneeling there, above Hinata, staring emotionlessly but intently. His classmate below him, on the other hand, hasn’t had enough time to cool down just yet.

 

“I GET IT, ALRIGHT?  _ DESPAIR _ AND ALL THAT. I UNDERSTAND NOW, SO  _ PLEASE _ STOP!” He yells carelessly, uncaring about the possible presence of others or even how illogical it is for him to say all of this when he got himself in this willingly and didn’t so much as  _ try _ to escape when he had the chance. 

 

“How can you understand,” Komaeda replies with a voice so calm, so unaffected that it sends chills down his spine, “when we’re not even at the important part yet?”

 

“WHAT  _ THE FUCK _ ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?” Hinata is still screaming, his voice is going hoarse from it, he’s so utterly, helplessly tired. His reason has left him a long time ago.

 

“I want to see your  _ hope _ , Hajime. That shining, beautiful  _ hope _ you have... I want to see you overcome this, you know? I’m sure you can do it, I believe in you.”

 

He starts to realize there’s no point in getting angry. His pounding heartbeat slows down a little bit, he rises from his position, lifts his face from the ground. As expected, there’s a hint of dust and bruises on his cheeks, but he regains at least a part of his sanity. His cock is still miserably hard and the cold air blowing from one side doesn’t help, but comparing to just a few seconds ago, it’s Heaven. Hinata looks at Komaeda with a lingering aftertaste of spite and anger. It is but an aftertaste, though, and that’s the strange part. Because he seems to have briefly come back to his usual self, ordinary and peaceful.  _ Here’s the chance to get back at him _ , he thinks, he could yell at him, punch him in the face and leave, and he’d have to deal with no resistance. He lifts his hand slowly, charges for a slap, only to see no reaction from Komaeda whatsoever despite the gesture being obvious. 

 

Hinata doesn’t move in the end. He stares for a few more silent seconds; for this brief lapse it’s only the sound of the wind and the waves, everything is back to normality with a surprising suddenness. He reaches out then, guided by whatever strange instinct just arose in him, and his fingers come into contact with that pale jawline with blue veins slightly visible due to the skin’s transparency. A tangle of white hair brushes against the back of his hand. Hinata hasn’t the slightest idea what he’s doing, he’s lost at his own actions. He has been for the past minutes. Now that he’s taking a proper look at Komaeda, he has a face with a certain unique beauty to it, which is hard to acknowledge amidst the amount of crazy bullshit he spouts, or when it’s contorted in that delirious expression. It’s also a face he hates all the while. Well, not exactly, but it’s a blurry issue. Words don’t have a meaning anymore. 

 

But nonetheless, there’s something that persists. Call it magnetism or whatever else - maybe it wasn’t mere interest in Komaeda’s odd mental processes in the first place, because it’s still there. A wish to engage with the only person considered a taboo in the pretense of organization and regularity of this festive slaughterhouse. Grasping at the only element that breaks the pattern. Hinata pulls closer and it only takes him a few seconds to climb onto his lap because he has to come to terms with the fact that there’s nothing else but  _ him _ at the moment, his body and mind are filled with Komaeda and  _ fuck _ , he’ll participate in his silly game about  _ hope _ , he’ll be under his control if that’s what Komaeda wants, it doesn’t matter, none of it matters anymore. They kiss, gently and softly this time, their erections pressing together just an insignificant detail of obscenity added to the display which none of the two care about at the moment. It was an excuse, Hinata realizes as their lips meet again and again, hungry and slick and passionate, they were all excuses, because seeing Komaeda flip out in and of itself isn’t a good enough motivation to go this far. He wasn’t being illogical, he was doing it for something else. And that something else is buried deep inside both of them; it’s not time for it to resurface just yet. Hinata can feel the shape of it, though, as the other wraps his lanky arms around his waist. This ordeal is turning into something good, after all. 

 

“I get the feeling…” Komaeda begins in a voice devoid of mockery, low and serious, only to have to start again after being cut off by another peck. “I get the feeling that somewhere, in a different reality, this would be familiar, Hajime.”

 

Even the name he’s saying sounds bizarre, out of place. Hinata feels something in the back of his subconscious almost breach the limit of apprehension, but it never does and the memories he’s expecting - perhaps something that’s been erased,  _ again _ \- never come. He lets it all slide.

 

“Nagito.” He savours the other’s name thoroughly, and then, suddenly, he feels completely naked despite the undone shirt and tie clinging to him as well as his pants and underwear around his ankle. His face heats up, embarrassingly enough, as he pushes against Komaeda’s chest lightly to have him lie down as he straddles him. 

 

“Can I…?” The other’s erection is pressing right against his ass and Hinata reaches behind himself to touch it. 

 

“Go ahead” comes the reply in the sweetest, most gentle tone.

 

Then he straightens up and sinks down on Komaeda. There are logistics behind the absurdity of the act; Hinata decides to achieve a positive experience. He  _ feels _ he’s capable of having sex with this guy and feeling good at the same time, everything tells him there’s a way for these two concepts to intertwine - so he tries to angle his movements well as he rides him, tries to relax and find that one good spot again. And it begins; it starts almost not hurting at all (certainly not comparing to before), drawing out moans from Hinata. It’s  _ actually pleasurable _ and he finds the lifting and dropping of his hips becoming more uncontrolled and needy, driven by something more than mechanical force. Komaeda is mesmerized with the whole thing, he blushes hard, held-back enjoyment clearly visible on his face. The other looks down at him with a sudden rush of fondness as he moves up and down, letting out small groans he’s been suppressing before. 

 

“Feels… ah!- Good…” 

 

“Hajime… I’m glad…” Komaeda finally moves, contributing by rocking up as much as he can from his position as he reaches up to hold the other’s hips - not so much for support as for having an excuse to touch him. 

 

Hinata throws his head to the side a little, rides him a little faster and revels in the feeling of being filled again and again, his body twitching in pleasure every time. He bites his lip, blushes and furrows his brows from the persisting discomfort but then his face rearranges in a groggy smile and a rush of genuine happiness kicks in. Komaeda looks captivated, his hair scattered around him on the ground, and it’s beyond surreal how everything could go from hellish to idyllic in such a short amount of time.  _ I did this _ , Hinata thinks,  _ my  _ hope _ did this.  _ Stimulation blends with overjoyment and it’s almost like being on drugs, he’s at his limit. All he could wish for is to make this moment last forever, to keep experiencing the immense faith he has in the world, in himself, in Komaeda, in  _ everything _ , this knowledge inside of him that things  _ will _ work out, that they’ll leave this island without more people dying -  _ hope _ . It’s elating and addicting, almost enough to push him over the edge.

 

“You look so good like this, Hajime” the other teenager says from under him, almost in a trance. “There’s so much  _ hope _ in your eyes.”

 

Then his expression goes misty again, like it did before, and he flips them around, taking control and thrusting into Hinata from above with a manic grin, but the other moans and cries into his mouth as he they kiss this time and mutters a series of incoherent rambles which vaguely sound like asking for more. Komaeda is all over him and around him and  _ inside him _ and there’s nothing else he could ask for in this moment, he’s so close his eyes roll back in pleasure as he’s being fucked  _ just right _ , the world is suddenly perfect and exactly as he wants it to be. The wind is bringing a sweet, mysterious scent and almost doesn’t feel cold anymore.

 

“God, I’m-” He’s interrupted by a thrust hitting his prostate that makes him groan loudly. “Nagito, I’m so fucking close, I  _ can’t _ , please go harder,  _ please… _ ”

 

The other complies, shutting his eyes and conveying how he’s also going to climax soon, mouth hanging open and a few words falling from his sneering lips.

 

“Show me, Hajime… Ah! Show me-...” His movements become frantic, both their enthusiastic, guttural pants intermingling in the air. Komaeda wraps a hand around his partner’s cock and finally touches him before continuing. “Your  _ hope _ , let me see all of it...!”

 

And with that, Hinata comes hard with a smile of both lust and happiness. His vision goes completely blank and he loses control over the entirety of his body as if it’s only being moved by the electric shocks of pleasure running through it. He’s so caught-up in the immense delight every inch of him is experiencing that he barely notices how Komaeda is also riding out his orgasm, the uncomfortable stickiness of semen filling up Hinata’s insides; a problem he will bother with maybe later. It lasts a few more seconds, a few more pushes with the lingering aftertaste of sexual completion. 

 

Then they both collapse on the ground, Komaeda breathing hard in exhaustion from above as unruly locks of white hair obscure Hinata’s vision in their embrace. He clings to him with resolve and affection and some ice has broken between them right in this moment, especially when the other decides to chuckle slightly and whisper yet another thing into his ear.

 

“You understood… See? It wasn’t that hard.”

 

Hinata pulls away slightly to be able to look at his face, seriousness returning to him.

 

“You could’ve gotten into a lot of trouble with this.” He pauses. “I mean, if I hadn’t been… Well… A sick fuck, just like you…”

 

Komaeda laughs at the phrasing for a few seconds before replying. “True, I  _ could have _ gotten into trouble. I’m lucky, though, remember?” The other sighs in frustration.

 

“Are you now saying that my sexual preferences are included in your Super High School Level luck?”

 

“The situation is.”

 

Their dialogue is interrupted with Nagito wincing all of the sudden and the other teenager looking at him questioningly. The response is a glance at the sky, and only then does Hinata notice how it’s completely grey. A droplet of water falls on his face, presumably what Komaeda must have felt on his nape. 

 

“Shit, we need to get back to the hotel quickly” he rolls out from under the other, naked as he is, grabbing his clothes from the ground and redressing as fast as he can manage. The other is out of it for a while, he sits up and stares as a few preliminary raindrops land on him; then he follows suit silently. 

 

They’re at the hotel reception after a few minutes of running in the rain, both completely drenched. The others still seem to be upstairs but going there sounds like an impossible task in this state. Hinata slumps down on the couch, back to where he started out and feeling worse than before physically. He has no idea how he’s even managed to  _ walk _ , let alone run with the burning ache in his backside and hips. Komaeda is standing a few meters from him, staring out the window absentmindedly and waiting for god knows what. He’s back to his usual self - a permanent state of distraction. 

 

“Fuck” Hinata cusses at an accidental movement in the wrong direction that makes him jolt in pain. “We should pick a setting with less rocks next time.” He can see the sparkles in the other’s eyes before he can realize what he just suggested and retract the statement.

 

“We can go to my cottage,” he steps closer, enthusiastic as ever, overgesticulating, “it might be inhabited by talentless human waste but it’s clean.”

 

Hinata groans in frustration, the ache in every part of his body just intensifying. The last thing he wants is to arrange another one of what was probably Komaeda’s idea of a ‘romantic date’… Or something like that. The other seems to get the message, though, because he lets go of the subject.

 

“Well, I guess you’ll never want to talk to me again after an-” He pauses awkwardly, looking for the word. “...experience like this, Hajime. I’ll get going, tell the others I’m at my place. Not that they’d ask but, I mean, if they do.”

 

The other teenager waits for the Ultimate Lucky Student to leave when suddenly, he feels a hand rub his scalp; it’s an attempt at a hair ruffle, except too slow. He has to consciously keep himself from seeing him as endearingly awkward. He sighs and reaches up, his first intention being to swat Komaeda’s hand away from his head, but then ends up grabbing it and pulling it away, holding onto it for just one second too long when the other flinches, walking away a moment later. 

 

Just before Nagito can open the door, he speaks again.

 

“The rain…”   
  


“Hm?”

 

“We should’ve known it was coming. From the wind, you know. It was dumb to stay there anyway.”

 

Komaeda turns around and smirks.

 

“Or maybe we both knew and did it anyway. Sometimes it’s worth walking into our own demise, wouldn’t you think, Hajime?”

 

He leaves Hinata thinking for a few more minutes, dwelling on those words that seemingly have little to do with anything. He gives up after a while; for one thing, the pain prevents him from thinking properly. For another, deciphering Komaeda is a next to impossible task that probably won’t take a single afternoon. 

 

As for the phrase; both of them will understand its real weight in just a few days. 


End file.
